Thursday, January 3, 2008

Do Not Believe Me: Part 2

So, during Christmas dinner, I found myself sitting at the kid’s table, eating with my 2nd brother and my niece and nephew. I was there by choice, thank you very much, and not because I had referred to the turkey as ‘the flesh of the unborn’ the year before.

In making conversation, I asked my 13-year-old niece what she wanted to be when she grew up. When she had no firm plans, I suggested that she become a yak herder.

She expressed bewilderment at the idea and I began to tell her all about yaks. When she asked how I knew so much about them, I told her I did a paper on them in college. I was, of course, lying.

Here’s what I told her:

Baby yaks are called yiks.

Yaks do not moo or low. Instead, they make a sound that resembles a cross between a hiccup and a fart.

Yak hair was the original dental floss. It’s called floss because that’s the English pronunciation of the Tibetan word for hair.

Yak meat tastes like chicken. Unless you live in Tibet, where chicken tastes like yak.

A yak will never step on a frog. If a yak is about to step on one, it will always pause to let the frog move. There have been cases where a yak was about to step on a deceased frog and froze, waiting for the frog to move. The yak will eventually starve to death if the frog is not moved. No one knows why this is so, but there is a legend about the King of Frogs saving the life of the Yak Prince, which is the traditional explanation.

Yaks and squid are natural enemies. If they happen to cross paths, they will immediately set to battle. The squid almost always loses, unless it can manage to drag the yak under water. There have been no confirmed cases of yaks fighting giant squid, but it is speculated that the giant squid would have the upper hand.

My niece and nephew were of course, enraptured by my tales. They asked many questions, which I answered to the best of my ability. I am fully confident that if they need to write a paper on yaks, they will get a D- (partial credit for creativity).

It should be noted that their father, my 2nd brother, was sitting there the whole time and he never said a word. When I asked him why he hadn’t said anything, his response was “If they haven’t figured out that you’re full of it yet, I’m not going to bother telling them.”

Maybe someday I will tell the story of why my sister-in-law refused to believe anything I told for three years. I could have literally walked up to her while on fire and said “I’m on fire. Could you please put me out?” and she would not have believed me. Such is life.